A Single Word
by Justamomentinthewoods
Summary: As we all know, Charlotte marries Mr. Collins, but does it really turn out to be such a horrid deal? Could something come of this necessity marriage?
1. Yes

**Hello! The story of Charlotte Lucas has always been one that I'd love to dig deeper into. She has a fabulous set up to a story that has gone unresolved in Austen's novel. So, here she's the heroine with a story I've always wanted to put down on paper. **

**I hope you enjoy it.**

* * *

**_Prologue _**

"Yes."

I never thought that one little word could change my life so abruptly. No longer will I have to worry about becoming an old maid, all the responsibilities of a single daughter gone. I will be taken care of, and comfortable. The fear of loneliness that so often plagued my nightmares can finally take its leave for I, Charlotte Lucas, am to be married.

There is certain giddiness in my walk, but there is still sadness in my heart. How funny that you can expect nothing but still be disappointed when you gain what you thought you never would. Every girl dreams of being married, and I am no exception. When I was younger I always thought he'd be handsome and, of course, rich. Tall, with dark hair and a title. A man with property and family- stylish sisters and an elegant mother. With horses and a garden and servants to tend to them. However, childish fancies slowly fade as you become older and when it becomes apparent that you will not grow into your gawky body or too wide mouth you settle with what you can get and I got Mr. Collins.

He is no where near the most handsomest man I've laid eyes on, nor is he even mediocre when it comes to conversation. However he did have one thing- the want for a wife. Sure, it was for social reasons rather than personal but a need is still a need and I was happy to fill the position. It's almost like taking a job, only you won't get paid and you'll have to raise the bosses' children. Children… it's much too early to think about such things.

In a few hours I will no longer introduce myself as Charlotte Lucas, but as Mrs. Collins. While I'm excited to be moving on into the next stage of womanhood and climbing the social ladder- even if it is only half a rung- there is still the part of my heart that dreams. The part of me that is still young and hopeful, who even thinks herself beautiful enough to tempt the likes of princes. I know better, even now as I look into the mirror and see myself dressed all in white, I know. I'm not comely, nor am I desirable. I know better than to think Mr. Collins desired me, he merely needed a woman who could fill the job description.

Sliding a hand down the fabric of my dress, I try to smile at my reflection. After today I will be a woman wed, independent from her father's house and the head of her own. Just as Mr. Collins is using me, I am using him. He follows his dear Lady Catherine's advice and I get married.

Never really thought I would marry. When Lizzie and I came of age and I found myself blinding in with the wallpaper at dances. Elizabeth grew up to be such a pretty thing and I just never caught up with her. Rather than be bitter with my circumstances, I rather look on the bright side.

I wish I owned a fancier dress, but alas this would have to do. It was the best dress in my closet, an off white that I save for special balls and gatherings. I just pray no one notices the tiny tear in my hem when I walk down the aisle. That would quite embarrassing now wouldn't it?

"Dear, it's time," I hear my father call, holding out an arm for me to take.

_Time to face your future, Charlotte._


	2. Dusk

Dusk is my favorite part of the day. Just as the sun is setting and the sky is painted with all shades of colors as if the sun is giving the world a final goodnight before the stars take over. Usually, I can't wait for when the sky changes coats and the world is blanketed with night, but tonight is different in a lot of ways.

For one, it will be the first night spent in my new home with me new… with Mr. Collins that is. If you're wondering, the wedding went just fine. Mr. Collins didn't plague the ceremony with a sermon or anything like that, he declared the vows just as I did without any extra unneeded phrases- thank god. In fact the whole ordeal went by rather quickly. One moment I'm on my father's arm the next I'm sitting in a carriage one my way to my new house. I wasn't nervous about the ceremony, there really isn't anything to be jittery about when you're merely standing in front of your family in a nice dress. However, there is a bigger cause for nerves for what comes after such dedications. Perhaps this is when love comes in handy during marriage.

My fingers twist at my handkerchief and I keep my eyes on the scenery we pass instead of the man by my side. I can feel his shoulder against mine and I can't help wonder what he must be thinking. Probably outlining a speech to give me later tonight, practicing phrases to say or planning out the whole evening. That's one thing about Mr. Collins, you can never be surprised by him.

It's a short ride to Mr. Collins' residence and I feel like the entire day has gone by in a blur. Standing in the kitchen, I look through the window and watch as the sky has started its vibrant dance. The clouds all colored pink, with splashes of orange and red. For some reason I expected it to look special tonight but it looks as it always does. Still enthralling in its own right, but just as it was the night before.

* * *

Dinner was conducted in a strange silence. I tried to make conversation but the words became lodged in my throat. Awkward quiet it is then. I think Mr. Collins said something about the peas but I was too busy listening to the frantic beating of my heart to hear, or eat for that matter.

Before I know it, the bright colors outside have vanished into a blank sky covered with clouds so that not even the stars are witness to the events on earth below. Mr. Collins is offering me his hand and helping me from the table. The hallway seems to last forever, and I regret leaving my white gloves on for they are only aiding the sweating on my palms. _Head up, Charlotte. Every woman has to go through this, love or not. _

The door clicks behind me and for the first time since the proposal, I'm alone in a room with a man. I think what scares me the most is that social customs cannot be used as a barrier here. Having married I have lost my armor against my husband; according to the law I am helpless. Of course a wedding night shouldn't be something a girl needs armor against, now should it?

I let my eyes fall over my husband and really take him in. Since the proposal I've avoided eye contact at all costs but I can't do that for the rest of my life and tonight is as good as any to start. He's shorter than the man of my dreams, his nose is too large his face always stuck in a stern expression and his eyes darting this way and that. Now they're pointed at the floor while pale fingers fiddle with his black hat. The only thing my real husband and my dream husband have in common is dark hair. Better than nothing, I guess. Upon examining him I feel my own nerves ease a little. We are both fools when it comes to such matters as this one and no doubt he's expecting the absolute worse just as I am. In this case, I shall take the lead.

Taking a step towards him, Mr. Collins eyes directly jump to my own. I gave a small, nervous smile before gently easing his hat from his fingers. Turning, I place it on a small table by the window when I feel his hand catch my own. I watch as he slowly pulls my glove from my hand and holding my fingers once they are freed from the white prison. My eyes jump to his face and study his expression as he examines my hand. He really isn't all that ugly. With his features relaxed instead of trying to so hard to fit in with high society he is rather comely. My other hand reaches out and touches his cheek, and he moves to take it, pulling the fabric off this one too.

"I understand that you maybe nervous for the upcoming events of the evening," his voice is shaky and practiced. So this was what he was mulling over in the carriage and during dinner. I know he cannot give me love or any sort of pleasure beyond a stable home and future. Try as we might, neither of us married for love. We married for convenience and nothing more. I do not expect him to woo me or anything childish like that. Pulling my hand free, I place a single finger against his lips to silence him. An action I trust many have wanted to do, but I am the first. I grin a little at the thought- I am the only person to have silence Mr. Collins, what a novel idea.

"You do not have to comfort me, Mr. Collins," I say and I see his shoulders relax beneath his jacket. "Merely do your duty as a husband."

* * *

It didn't hurt all that much. I mean the whole thing gives you a very different kind of feeling. Not one you can experience anywhere else. Afterwards, we laid next to each other for a long while, not speaking, not moving- just listening to our breathing. Eventually, Mr. Collins' morphed into snores and I found myself feeling strangely lonely in a bed right next to a man I was tied with til death.

I now know all the secrets of marriage, yet none of them were nearly as exciting as one would hope. After dusk, everything becomes crystal clear and sometimes clarity can be painful.


	3. Art

It is refreshing being in charge of my own household. Of course the husband is the man of the house but everyone knows it is the wife that truly runs the homes inner workings. Besides, Mr. Collins is away most of the day, be it in the chapel or his own thoughts. I've only lived in this house for three days but it already feels like a life time. Wandering the rooms by myself, I have come to terms with how lonely I am. At home there were always sisters or servants bustling around, making unwanted noise that I loathed so much. Now all I want is to hear someone whistling out in the yard or humming while folding sheets. Occasionally Mr. Collins will practice a hymn but thankfully he has realized singing is not his strongest suit.

In these three days I have lived here I have supped with Lady Catherine twice. She is a haughty woman who constantly looks down her nose at me. However, Mr. Collins simply adores her so I'm forced to suffer her dim dinners often filled with lukewarm conversation. Of course it is thrilling to be in such a wealthy person's home, especially one with whom I have ties. For reasons that are beyond me, her ladyship has developed an attachment into Mr. Collins and his work in the church.

That's another thing; I am to experience my first Collins sermon in two days. My husband is quite excited about it and has talked of hardly anything else. Just this morning, during breakfast, instead of good morning my husband greeted me with "All week I have been preparing a sermon for Sunday that hopefully you will find unique to our circumstances." A phrase I have roughly translated to "I wrote a sermon about marriage." Despite Mr. Collins' faults you have to admit he is very enthusiastic about his work.

All by one's self there is very little you can do especially when you have been raised in such a populous household. There are certain rooms in the house that have been marked off as personal. For example, I have my parlor near the back that is entirely mine. Mr. Collins has promised not to disturb me in there at all- a getaway I have not needed to use yet. While my room is bathed in blue wallpaper, Mr. Collins' is drowning in books. His personal room is his library, all deep woodwork and dusty leather bound books. I was only showed it once in a passing matter as if to say "by the way don't go in here." However the promise of a good story wouldn't let a little thing like a door get in my way, especially when no one was around to catch me. It's kind of funny how when you decide to break a rule it gives you a rush of adrenaline. I'm no criminal, nor one to even so much as bend the rules so the mere thought of sneaking into a room I vowed not to go into was enough to flush my face and send my heart skipping into a dance. After checking the back door to see if Mr. Collins was crossing the yard from the chapel, and then the windows for any visitors and then the back door again just to make sure, I approached the study door.

My fingers tingled as they turned the knob and my entire body felt like a candle flame when I stepped out onto the rug. Three of the four walls were covered in book shelves, and every shelf was jammed with books. In the middle of the room was Mr. Collins' writing desk, also piled up with books. I walked over on the tips of my toes trying not to disturb a man who was not there. None of the books on his desk looked in the least bit interesting, that's what I get for marrying a clergyman I guess. I make for the shelves, running my fingertips across the spines of the books, reading the titles I can and just passing the ones I can't. They're all books that I'm sure my husband finds enthralling but for myself, I can't find anything that would be worth the time to actually pick up, that is until I hit the very last shelf. Wedged behind a row of books I see a smaller edition bound in red. Slipping a few books from their place, I snatch the book up and slide the others back into their rightful slots. Flipping the book open I'm not greeted with hundreds of words cramped together but pictures. Drawings of statues and copies of paintings. While it is not like seeing the real thing, this miniature art museum was just the thing I was looking for. Some of the drawings were simple farm scenes, or paintings of wealthy men and women in their houses playing piano or just sitting talking. However the more I flipped through the book the more interesting the pictures became. Nude women being carried away by greek gods, men wearing only a strap to hold on a quiver shooting arrows. I had never really thought much about artistic nudity but having actually seen a man… well now I'm a little curious. The men in the paintings were all tan, tall and muscular with thick beards and a weapon in each hand. The man I had known… well he was paler than I, barely an inch taller and, well, he was more pudgy than muscular. Then again what was I to these curvy women in the drawings, with long golden hair that reached the ground and wrapped around their bodies. I was just a stick with brown hair, nothing to look at.

I put the comparisons aside and sat down at the writing desk, flipping through the pages of the book admiring the art and… well mostly the men in the art. If I had married one of those strapping men would I be happier? Would my wedding night have felt any different? Biting my bottom lip I flipped another page, examining every inch of a drawing of Apollo. The god was completely nude, holding a crown of leaves over a clothed man's head. Apollo was painted differently than the other men in the book. He was pale, with long blonde hair braided loosely away from his face. He wasn't a hunk of muscle, in fact he looked like the women in the other paintings, if it weren't for the… you know. I could feel the blush creeping across my face, but I stared at the drawing anyway, admiring the different strokes used to portray Apollo.

"Ahem," a voice coughed behind me and I stood up so fast the desk chair fell over onto its side and the art book flew from my hand landing at the feet of Mr. Collins, the pages fallen open to a particularly graphic scene of nude men kidnapping sobbing women. He started to bend over to pick the book up and I could feel my embarrassment spreading across my flesh.

"No! Le- let me," sweeping forward, I kneeled down and snatched the book up before he could, snapping the covers closed and holding it behind my back.

"I thought we agreed this was my private room, Mrs. Collins," my husband looked just as flustered as I was and I couldn't help but think that my panic was contagious. His eyes darted around the room refusing to land on my own and his hands were pushing twisting away at a handkerchief.

"Yes, I know but, uh, it is important to further one's mind through reading," I manage to strangle out, my own eyes now trained on the carpet. An awkward silence hung in the air, as they usually do between us but this time I couldn't take the eerie quiet just standing there while my hands held a book full of naked men and women- no matter how artistically painted. "I'm sorry, Mr. Collins. I'll leave you to your writing."

Shaking hands placed the red bound book onto the writing desk and I started for the door with my eyes directed in front of me and nowhere else. However as I passed through the threshold, I felt a hand on mine and stopped to see Mr. Collins looking at me. I could see sweat on his neck falling into his collar, in fact his whole face glistened with it.

"Yes?" I asked, positive my face was as red as the binding of the art book. He opened his mouth to speak but soon closed it, his eyes drifted down my face to my mouth before snapping back up to my eyes.

"Nothing, excuse my disturbance," and with that we both rushed to our respective sides of the doorframe. I was half way down the hallway before I hear the faint thud of the door falling into place. My feet were already carrying to my parlor and once there I shut the door and leaned against the wood, attempting to control my frantic breathing.

I couldn't list all the wrong turns I took in just one hour today and suddenly I feel like crying. It's ridiculous but my throat grows thick and my nose starts to run like it always does. I only wanted security. I wanted a comfortable home and rose bushes by every window, I never wanted a husband. Only it seems that a life companion is part of the whole "having a happy life" package. I thought it was Mr. Collins who was the problem, who was embarrassing and a delight to get away from but now I see we are both traumatizing in our own right. Maybe we were meant for each other.


	4. Exquisite

A whole week has passed since the incident in the library and while we try to act as if nothing of importance happened the elephant in the room is too large to ignore for long. The worst few hours of my life occurred on Sunday when I witnessed my new husband talk at his parish. I say talk at because I doubt anyone of them actually listen, maybe save Lady Catherine. The sermon was about marriage, of course, and his eyes kept flickering over to mine. Being watched like that meant I couldn't doze during the service like so many around me chose to do. I swear I heard a snore from further back in the lines of pews. Well, Mr. Collins talked about the importance of marriage- although the points he brought up were the least of my worries when I was considering a husband- and eventually he ended on our duty to provide children. A thought that made all the blood drain from my head. After the final prayer I waited until my husband came by before standing up out of fear I might pass out. Sundays were never my favorite and they continue to disappointment me.

However weekdays are much calmer. I tend to spend them in my parlor, but occasionally I go for walks. The sky looked awfully gray so I decided to pass the hours reading and sipping hot tea- an activity I can enjoy in silence now that I'm married. Of course good things never last as long as you want them too. A quick knock on my parlor door and my afternoon was shattered.

"We've been invited to dine at Lady Catherine's tonight," my husband informed me, his eyes darting back and forth from my face to the room behind. I guess he was expecting the wallpaper to be vulgar paintings, well he must have been severely disappointed.

Dinner at someone's house may not seem like the most terrible of circumstances but Lady Catherine is one picky woman. So every time we eat with her I have to haul out a dress I haven't worn in her presence before or throw enough ribbons on an old one so that she doesn't notice. The second time we had dinner with her she was so generous to point out that I was wearing the same dress as the first time. A statement punctuated with a disgusted face and finished off with a "we must be grateful of what we have."

Riffling through my trunk, I found a dress at the bottom that I had completely forgotten about. It had been a birthday present from my parents on my fifteenth birthday, the year I came out as a woman eligible for marriage. I was to wear it to balls and attract all the male attention… what a waste of money. However, it was a beautiful dress. A light yellow color with sleeves that ended at the elbow and tiny roses stitched along the hem, the cuffs and just under the bosom. I slipped it on and set to the task of picking jewelry. I don't own much but I decided to go all out tonight just to show that old hag that I was somebody. A pearl barrette in my hair polished off the look and as I gazed into the mirror I almost felt… pretty. Waving it off I rushed to change shoes as the same rapid knock greeted my door only it didn't stop after a few times, no, my husband knocked up til I opened the door.

"We'll be la-," Mr. Collins was just starting another when he just stopped mid word. Immediately, I began to worry I had done too much, that the dress was pretty but it would never shine if I was the one who wore it.

"I'm so sorry, should I change?" I could feel my face turn read and my hands flew up to my hair already prepared to take the pearls out.

"No, no," Mr. Collins laid a hand on my forearm and my fingers instantly froze. "On the contrary, you look exquisite."

My hands drifted back down to my sides and a smile awkwardly tug at a corner of my mouth. No one had ever called me _exquisite. _Charlotte Lucas doesn't render men speechless, and certainly not the long winded Mr. Collins.

"W-we should go," I stuttered out and we threw our cloaks on and headed across the yard to Lady Catherine's dinner.

Along with the lady of the house and her daughter was one other guest, a Colonel Fitzwilliam. I soon learned he was the cousin of the sour Mr. Darcy I had met at the dances back home. However the Colonel was nothing like his relative, he was actually rather charming and while he did not possess an exceptionally handsome face he had incredible wit. The man seemed to excel at small talk, a pastime I don't often get to enjoy much of anymore. At dinner I had the pleasure to be seated beside Colonel Fitzwilliam, even if I was at the opposite end of the table from the hostess. Mr. Collins was seated across from me beside Lady Catherine's daughter. I got an earful of charm from the Colonel all through dinner. I tried to conceal my laughter but a few glances towards my husband proved that I did not hide it well enough.

"For such a tender steak your husband cuts it rather violently," Fitzwilliam whispered to me. I did not have to look to know he was right, I could hear the silverware against the china.

Before the night was over Lady Catherine had actually complimented my dress, just the dress not the woman in it. The Colonel even spared a few nice words towards me. I felt completely out of place to be praised so much in one evening. Surely this what it feels like to be a normal girl. Surely this must all be a dream my poor, lonely mind has concocted.

Sitting in Lady Catherine's parlor we were discussing the modern artists- a topic Mr. Collins and I refrained from adding to- when thunder shook the house. Peering out of the window, I could tell that the overcast sky from earlier this afternoon had turned into a full-fledged thunder storm. After around an hour of conversation, Mr. Collins announced our exit and I was forced to tear myself away from the Colonel and don my cloak once more to face the rain. My husband was already out of the door before I had even pulled my hood up. I quickly followed, and after a few long strides had managed to catch up with him.

"Mr. Collins, I dare say you planned on leaving your poor wife behind," I said looking over at the face tucked beneath his hat.

"I fear you would have liked the company there better than my own," is voice was sharp and he didn't bother looking at me.

"I was merely making conversation, Mr. Collins, that is hardly adultery," I said, my emotion getting the best of me. The man had dragged me out in the rain only to insult me after all.

"William," he stopped mid stride, looking at me as if he were a puppy I had just kicked. "You can call me by my name, William."

Sometimes I forget that beneath the mechanical exterior there is actually a man underneath the speeches and superfluous words. It is ironic for me to forget such a thing, a woman who has suffered as much social exile and ridicule as her husband. I should have known better than locking myself in a room he had vowed not to go into after I had gone into his private library. I should have known better after he stopped midsentence to compliment me, yet I didn't. Even though I had entered, what could only be predicted as, a loveless marriage I had not considered that the man I was tied to had feelings and that I could hurt them. All my life I had known I'd never experience romance, and thus I am completely unprepared for it.

"William, you'll catch a cold if you just stand out much longer," I'm sure that wasn't what he wanted to hear but it was all I could think of. The name felt weird against my tongue but I vowed to use it more. I took his hand in mine and started towards our house. The chill from the rain had set into my skin and I yearned for the warmness of a fire.

Stepping into the house I tossed my hood back, looking down at my dress, "I'm positively drenched, and so are you," I said looking up to see water running off his cape in rivets onto the floor. "William," it came out warmer this time, for I was actually looking into his face. It was slightly pudgy but not as ugly as Lizzie made it out to be. In fact, I dare say he was more handsome than Colonel Fitzwilliam. Reaching up I take his hat from his head and become aware of how close I am to him. Not even a half a step of space between us and suddenly I'm staring at his dark eyes that he's studying me so intently with. I'm transported to the tender moment before our first night as husband and wife and feel the same tension again. Moving away I lay his hat down on the counter before starting at the tie of my cloak.

"Allow me," Mr. Collins says, stepping up again to close the space I had inadvertently made. Standing behind me, he reached around pulling at the string until it came undone and he lifted the heavy, soaked fabric from my shoulders. I could still feel where his chilled fingers had grazed the skin of my neck. Maybe all the compliments I had received during the night had gone to my head to make me so bold, or perhaps it was the rain that had done it. Either way, my courage was certainly screwed to the sticking place and in a excited flourish, I twisted around and pressed myself against my husband's chest, along with my lips against his own. It wasn't much of a kiss compared to the ones I've read of in books, short and a bit one sided. I pulled back to see Mr. Collins had been so surprised he had just frozen in place. He blinked a few times before looking at me in confusion.

"I believe a woman is allowed to kiss her own husband, is she not?" I said and I couldn't help he giggle that escaped between my lips. However, I didn't have to worry about laughing anymore for my husband's lips blocked their passage.

I've only ever been kissed by Mr. Collins and none of the pecks out of necessity have been worth noting. This one, however, was a completely different animal. There was a fire to it that melted away the chill of the rain, a flame that seemed to consume every part of me. Once we had pulled apart again it was my turn to act surprised. My lips tingled from his touch and my heart seemed ready to burst out of my chest. A breathless moment passed before we came together in unison this time, lips nearly melted together and hands holding onto the other as if they might fly away.

This must be what it feels like to be truly exquisite.


End file.
